I have a beautifully worded tweet as my cover image on my Facebook page that contains the words, "The glory of God is Black people alive." When I first saw it, I drank in each word of the sentence. Memorized each curve of every letter. I often share and fall in love with beautiful statements… Continue reading Forgiven
Two weeks ago I went to get new waist beads, a ceremony that has marked moments in my life over the past five years. Browns, yellows, whites, greens, chakras and beads adorning my waist, grounding me in the beauty and brokenness of life. Last week when I was showering, I noticed that all my beads… Continue reading Interlocked
On Thursday night I spent 12 hours in the emergency room at Highland Hospital. I had forgotten how cold and lonely the ER is, waiting in old chairs under fluorescent lights, anxiety high, clutching my bag, mask on, avoiding contact with others, and waiting for my name to be called. I'm someone who believes in… Continue reading Today I Went to the Doctor and Cried II
It takes me a walk, a BART, and another walk to get to my doctor's office in the city. It's not a long journey for a carless person used to public transit, but over the years it's felt like a light year away. I love my current doctor. She is kind, clearly communicates with me,… Continue reading Today I Went to the Doctor and Cried
“Shards of glass can cut and wound or magnify a vision. Mosaic celebrates brokenness and the beauty of being brought together” ― Terry Tempest Williams, Finding Beauty in a Broken World At the beginning of this year in January, I thought that my cosmetics and skincare products were turning against me. And I was panicked and confused… Continue reading 28 – “Annotation and Redaction,” Part 1
I was reminded recently at church that rest is an act of worship. That I must remember Mama Angelou's words that the world will keep going even if I stop to breathe. That it is in these moments that I pause to take in the beauty of the world. I recently went to Alaska for… Continue reading Resetting
While reading Terry Tempest Williams I came across this line: “Women piece together their lives from the scraps left over for them.” Young girls are too often socialized to think of their highest calling in life is to give freely of themselves to others. While there is nothing inherently wrong with living a life of… Continue reading A Deliberate Life of Healing
We pursue visibility often. The need to know that someone or someones have given us a nod of approval, read our words, liked our photos, has reviewed our work. But if visibility is driven by something at its foundation, that foundation I feel must be hate. Whether that hatred is about hating who you are… Continue reading Loving Myself to Change
''How simple a thing it seems to me that to know ourselves as we are, we must know our mothers' names.'' -Alice Walker Whenever people ask me why I want to be a writer, I always begin at my mother, who is a writer. I would feel… Continue reading The Gifts of My Mother –Reflections on Mother’s Day
black women breathe flowers, too. just because we are taught to grow them in the lining of our quiet (our grandmothers secret). does not mean we do not swelter with wild tenderness. we soft swim. we petal. we scent limbs. love. we just have been too long a garden for sharp and deadly teeth. so… Continue reading Close Encounters
Odelia Younge 